


Jamie Bennett and the Wizarding World

by Onamonapiedia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen, Wizard Jamie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onamonapiedia/pseuds/Onamonapiedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DISCONTINUED! And though it would take more convincing from Mr. Macmillan, and begging from Jamie, by the end of the day Mrs. Bennett agrees to send her only son, her darling baby boy, off to boarding school, to study magic.  But after everything Mr. Macmillan showed her that day, Jamie was sure that the man could have told his mother that the sky was red and she would have believed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I will no longer be working on this story. There was just too much research I would have to do to make it work. If anyone would be interested in taking it over I can give you the notes I already have, I just don't have the time for such an undertaking.

Jamie Bennett believed in a lot of things.  He believed in Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy, he even had a yeti’s autograph, and, most importantly of all, he believed in Jack Frost (who was way cooler than the Easter Bunny no matter what his little sister Sophie said).  Jamie believed in _a lot_ of things, but even he was having troubling believing this.  Maybe it was because when the first letter appeared on his eleventh birthday, not even Jack, who had been all over the world, had heard of the place.  Maybe it was because it was delivered by an owl, which seemed strange enough by itself.  Or maybe it was because, they had only been living in England for a couple months, and he was still having trouble understanding some of the things his classmates said, that he thought it was all just a joke.

 

But when the second letter appeared, this time through the mail slot with the rest of the post, Jamie had more trouble writing the whole thing off, especially when the address included the location of his bedroom.  When the third, forth, and fifth letters arrived, all together on a Sunday, he decided to show his mom.  But it wasn’t until the pudgy little man in the strange purple robe appeared on their doorstep, clutching yet another one of those thick parchment envelopes in his hand, that Jamie Bennett was fully willing to believe, that he, was a wizard.

 

His mother however took more convincing.


	2. ONE The Stranger at the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rather peculiar guest arrives for Jamie Bennett.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the first real chapter, much longer as promised.

In a small townhouse, just outside of London, a small family of American immigrants were about to play host to a rather unusual man. This man, for all intents and purposes, appeared out of thin air on their front step only moments before.  He was short, only a few feet taller than the young Jamie Bennett who answered the door, and between the wrinkles forming behind his glasses and the bald spot in his sandy blonde hair, poorly hidden under a ruffled old hat, it was apparent that he was reaching a young middle age.  But Jamie did not notice these things, as he was much more taken aback by the man’s peculiar dress (and Jamie wasn’t quite sure if the garment the man wore was _not_ in fact a dress).  Bewildered by the dark purple robe the man had on, and the matching pointed hat, Jamie didn’t know what to make of this stranger.  But the stranger seemed delighted to see him.

  


“Hello there lad.  I am Ernie Macmillan of the Office of Muggle-born Outreach under the Department of International Magical Cooperation in the Ministry of Magic.  You must be Jamie Bennett.  I’ve been informed that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been having trouble receiving a response to your acceptance letter.”

  


Jamie was didn’t know what to make of the peculiar man’s equally peculiar speech, and simply stood in the doorway staring at the strange visitor.

 

“Jamie, who’s at the door?” Mrs. Bennett called from within the house.  But Jamie wasn’t sure how to respond, the man had said something about magic and a school, but he spoke far too quickly for Jamie to follow.  Luckily he was saved from having to respond as his silence prompted his mother to come out to the front hall, his baby sister Sophie following behind, a half eaten sandwich still in her hands and blueberry jam smeared across her mouth and into her long blonde hair.

 

“Ah, and you must be Mrs. Bennett, Jamie’s mother,” the man started speaking again, "I was just talking to your son about how Hogwarts has yet to receive his confirmation of attendance in regards to his acceptance letter,” the man proudly finished, putting out his hand to shake the confused woman’s.  Upon reaching the door, Mrs. Bennett grasped the stranger’s hand, gave it three quick shakes, and simultaneously shooed her son safely behind her.

 

“I’m sorry Mr…” Mrs. Bennett paused in addressing the man.

 

“Macmillan.  Ernie Macmillan of the Office of...”

 

“Yes, yes.  Mr. Macmillan,” Mrs. Bennett interrupted, “But I’m afraid you have the wrong house.  You see, we haven’t received any acceptance letters.”

 

“Oh, my my.  That won’t do at all,” the man said reaching into his robe and searching through several pockets.  “Those owls can be so unreliable sometimes.  Never to worry, I have a copy here somewhere.”  As Mr. Macmillan rummaged through his seemingly endless supply of pockets, Jamie peeked out from behind his mother. 

 

In his front breast pocket, the man appeared to have placed a long thin stick, and out of his right side pocket he produced a handful of what Jamie would have thought where plums, if it weren’t for the fact that they were giving off a rather pungent green smoke that smelled vaguely of peppermint.  Shoving the strange fruit back into the depths from wince they came, the man finally seemed to have found what he was looking for, muttering a quick “There you are,” he pulled a crumpled parchment envelope out of a red pouch sown between the folds of his robe.  Bending down, and with the flourish one would use if presiding on royalty, Mr. Macmillan presented Jamie Bennett with a letter identical to the five that where safely hidden upstairs in his bedroom, guarded by his favorite stuffed rabbit.

 

Jamie snatched at the envelope before his mother could reach down and confiscate it.  Turning it over in his hands, he ran his fingers over the emerald green lettering:

 

                        _Jamie Bennett_

_Upstairs, Second Door on the Left_

_9 Holdbrook_

_Hitchin_

_Hertfordshire_

 

He could feel the wax seal pressing into the palm of his hand.  He didn’t need to open the letter to know what it said inside; he had already spent hours memorizing the others, hoping that what they said was true, that a place like Hogwarts really could exist.

 

His mother stared down at him, worry written on her face.  She went to say something, probably to tell Mr. Macmillan off, but Jamie spoke up before she got the chance.

 

“Owls,” Jamie said, glancing at the man excitedly.  “You said owls.  Mom, he said owls!”  Jamie looked up at his mother, an expectant look on his face.

 

“Yes, Jamie.  He did say owls…” his mother was hesitant, her worried look increasing.

 

“Don’t you see mom,” Jamie went on, lifting the letter out of the reach of his sister’s jelly covered hands, “the first letter.  It was delivered by an owl!  On my birthday!  We were outside playing and an owl swooped right down in front of me.  It almost hit Ja…” Jamie stopped, knowing that mentioning his “imaginary friend” wouldn’t help convince his mother of anything.  “But it had the letter, the first one, in its beak, and it wouldn’t leave me alone until I took it.  Isn’t that right Sophie?” Jamie asked the three year old still reaching for the letter now held high above his head.

 

“Uh huh,” Sophie responded, losing interest in trying to get the letter from her brother and returning to sucking the jelly out of her sandwich.

 

“See mom,” Jamie implored.

 

Mrs. Bennett was not convinced.  But Mr. Macmillan seemed thrilled at Jamie’s remarks.

 

“Ah, so you did receive the letter.  Good… no great!  Now all we have to do is go on over to Diagon Alley and get you your supplies.”  Mr. Macmillan shared a large grin with Jamie.

 

“Now hold up Mr. Macwhatever,” Mrs. Bennett’s voice took on a serious tone as she glared at the stranger, “you’re not taking my son anywhere,” she threatened.

 

“Mom!” Jamie whined, pulling on his mother’s pant leg as he grasped the letter safely to his chest.

 

“Oh, I see you’ll take more convincing then,” Mr. Macmillan said, the smile never quite leaving his face.  He reached into his front breast pocket and pulled out the long thin stick that resided within.  Mrs. Bennett stepped in front of her children again, not sure what the man planed to do with a stick, yet unwilling to risk her children’s safety should he decide to attack.

 

But instead of brandishing the piece of wood like a knife, Mr. Macmillan merely put the end of the stick to his mouth, as if in thought, and began muttering to himself.  “Perhaps a _Lumos_ … but no, no, far too simple.  A _Patronus_ then.  Those never get old, not matter how many times you see one.  But… maybe something a little more solid.  You know, something you can hold in your hands.  I’ve got it…” and with a strange word and swish of the stick, the man was suddenly holding a piping hot cup of tea.

 

Then Mr. Macmillan brought the cup to his lips, where his wand had previously been (for Jamie was now certain that the stick was in fact a wand), and took a long sip.  Drawing the cup back down, he sighed as the fog cleared from his glasses, “Never could get the tea quite right, needs more lemon,” and, with another swish, the cup was gone and the wand returned to its place in his front breast pocket.

 

“Now Mrs. Bennett,” Mr. Macmillan addressed the startled woman, “perhaps I can come inside and we can discuss your son’s most promising future.”

 

Not sure what to do, Mrs. Bennett continued to stare at the man… no wizard, with a look of awe on her face.  But beside her, young Jamie’s eyes were alight.  He had thought the night last year, when he became the first child in the entire world to see Jack Frost and the last light that saved the Guardians from a defeat by the boogeyman, had been the best day in his entire life; and though he would never give that day up for anything (Jack was his best friend _ever_ after all), this day trumped that day’s _butt_.  No longer would he just have to hear about all the great adventures that Jack and Mr. Bunnymund went on, now he could be a part of them.

 

Putting on the best, most sweetest puppy dog eyes he could manage, Jamie looked back up at his mother, still holding tightly to the cloth of her pant leg, and begged, “Please, mom.  Can’t he just come in?  Don’t you want to hear what he has to say?”

 

Mrs. Bennett looked down at her son, then up at Mr. Macmillan, then back down at her son again, and, after a few more moments of stunned silence, she finally relented.

 

“I suppose he can come in for a few minutes,” Mrs. Bennett paused to shoot a warning look at her son as he pumped his fist in the air and made a triumphant noise, “But just a few.  You still have to finish your chores and I have to give your sister a bath.”  On that note they both glanced over at Sophie, who, having finished her sandwich and abandoned the crust on the floor, was participating in her favourite pastime, hunting eggs (and while their mother kept trying to tell her that the Easter Bunny only visited in Spring, and definitely not in the middle of August, she did still manage to find some on occasion).

 

“Okay mom,” Jamie said, looking sheepishly at his feet, yet still too excited to be overly worried by his mother’s reprimand.  “Come this way Mr. Macmillan, we can go sit in the kitchen; it barely has any boxes left in it anymore.”  Jamie then proceeded to drag their, now guest, down the hall, leaving his mother to clean up after Sophie and wonder at what she was letting her son get himself into.

  

* * *

  


 

Although, Jamie was correct in that out of all the rooms in their new house, the kitchen did manage to have the least number of boxes in it, that did not in any way mean that it was not in fact a mess (the consequences of any meal with a three year old).  Clearing off the remains of his mother’s and his lunch, but not bothering to address the disaster that had been his sister’s (it would take a bucket of hot water and a several rags to get that side of the table clean) he cleared a place for Mr. Macmillan to sit.

 

“I’m supposed to make tea, right?” Jamie asked over his shoulder as he placed the dirty plates in the sink.  “I mean, that’s what you’re supposed to do in England, isn’t it?  When you have people over.”

 

“Yes that is what people generally do.” Mr. Macmillan consented, “but no need to worry, I’ve had quite enough tea for the moment.  It was very kind of you too offer though.”  The older man smiled over at the boy, reassuring him in the face of foreign customs.  “You know, it’s rather rare to have an American attend Hogwarts, you moved just in time lad.”

 

“Oh,” Jamie said curious, but a little apprehensive.  “You mean there aren’t any wizards in America?”

 

“Oh of course there are, thousands of them, the rowdy lot.  They even managed to build two schools.  But neither compare to Hogwarts of course.  If one wishes to learn magic, it really is the best place by far.”  Mr. Macmillan began rummaging through his pockets again, and pulled out one of the smoking fruits, quickly popping it into his mouth and chewing down on it with a _squelch_.

 

“What _are_ those?” Jamie asked taking the seat next to the wizard.

 

“ _Maloideae Lindley_ , quite refreshing after a disappointing meal, taste like grapefruit.  Would you like one?” Mr. Macmillan produced another wrinkled fruit from his robe and held it aloft for Jamie to take.

 

“No, I think I’ll pass,” Jamie gave the fruit a repugnant look, and, at the boy’s refusal, Mr. Macmillan popped the second fruit into his mouth with another loud squishing sound.

 

 As Mr. Macmillan chewed on his magic fruit, Jamie watched him intently.  He had so many questions running through his head.  Where would he get a wand?  What would do you learn in a magic school?  Well other than magic of course, but what _kinds_ of magic?  And did they have magic animals?  I mean they must, what wizard wouldn’t have some sort of magical pet?  Could he get his very own Dragon?  And, most importantly of all, could the wizards see Jack and the Guardians?  And if there were thousands of them, where were they all when Pitch destroyed Easter?

 

 Before Jamie could ask any of these all important questions, his mother came into the kitchen, carrying a clean(er) Sophie, now with her favourite pair of ratty pink fairy wings proudly displayed on her little back.

 

Setting Sophie in her booster seat and instructing her to finish her juice box, Mrs. Bennett sat across from Mr. Macmillan, and shot the man an apprehensive look.

 

“Alright Mr. Macmillan, maybe you should start from the very beginning.”

 

“Ah yes, a very good place to start,” Mr. Macmillan responded.  “I am Ernie Macmillan of the Office of Muggle-born Outreach under the Department of International Magical Cooperation in the Ministry of Magic.  I am here to inform you, Mrs. Bennett, that because your son has shown exceptional abilities, outside of those generally found in the muggle population, in the use and application of magic and other magic related activities, he has been offered enrolment in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where, his innate talents can be cultivated and refined.  In other words, Jamie Bennett,” the man stopped in his dialogue to directly address the boy sitting next to him, “ _you_ are a wizard.”

 

Jamie couldn’t stop smiling.  Even as he looked over at his mother to see her thoroughly unconvinced, he couldn’t manage to wipe the grin from his face.

 

“Okay,” Mrs. Bennett began, not taking her eyes off Mr. Macmillan.  “Let’s just say that for a moment that I believe you, and I’m not saying I do, but you actually _are_ a wizard, not just some conman with a neat trick.  Why would I ever let my son go off to this school of yours?  A school that I have never heard of before, and that I would have no way of checking up on… outside of other “wizards” like yourself, that is.”

 

At that, Jamie’s smile did fade.  His mother couldn’t keep him from studying magic, not when he just learned that he could.  It wasn’t fair.

 

“And besides,” his mother continued, “why didn’t you just come here in person in the first place, instead of spamming our house with these letters.”  She gestured at the envelope Jamie still gripped possessively in his hands, not yet willing to open it should he find that it really was just a hoax like his mother thought.

 

“All done,” Sophie piped up in the momentary pause in the adults’ conversation, a pleased grin on her face, scrunching up her green eyes and displaying all of her teeth  (at least the ones that the Tooth Fairy had yet need to collect), as she proudly held the empty juice box out for her mother to take.

 

A bit stunned by the reminder of her daughter’s presence, Mrs. Bennett took the box and helped her daughter off the chair at her insistence of “Down, down.”

 

Now, with Sophie safe on the floor and occupied with crayons and “imaginary” eggs, Mrs. Bennett returned to glaring at Mr. Macmillan, who seemed to have easily recovered from both Mrs. Bennett’s accusations and Sophie’s interruption.

 

“Yes the letters,” he returned to the conversation’s previous topic, “Those really should have been delivered in person.  I do apologize for that.  It’s our fault really.  You see, it was just decided that our office should handle these matters, instead of the faculty, you know.  It was thought that it would be better for fostering cooperation between muggle-borns and non-muggle-borns.  Keep the potential for discrimination as low as possible.  Very important with everything that’s happened over these last few years.  It’s the very reason our office was created in fact, the Office of Muggle-born Outreach, to ensure that muggle-borns always have a say and never have to worry about being suppressed again.

 

“And then, of course, there was the fact of your move.  It takes a while for a student’s information to get transferred from one school to the next, and naturally each Ministry has their own requirements that slightly differ to confirm a muggle-born’s abilities …” Mr. Macmillan trailed off at the completely lost looks on both Bennetts’ faces.  “But Jamie passed all acceptance criteria.  Superbly in fact, so there’s no reason to worry there,” he reassured.

 

After gathering her composure, again, and taking a minute to process what she had just been told, Mrs. Bennett reiterated her first concern, “But that still doesn’t mean that I can trust your school with my son.”

 

“Ah, yes, yes. I was getting to that.”  Mr. Macmillan looked a little embarrassed by his forgetfulness and rubbed at the bald spot on the back of his head, almost knocking his rumpled hat off.  “I can take you to the school of course.  The parents of all muggle-born students being admitted to Hogwarts are allowed one tour of the campus.”

 

“Oh,” Mrs. Bennett seemed surprised by this reasonable response.  “And when would this tour take place?”

 

“Oh right now if you’d like.  We can leave anytime you’re ready.”

 

Mrs. Bennett didn’t know how to respond to that, but one glance from her son had her accepting.  She wasn’t on call at the hospital today anyway, and what harm could one tour do?  If they didn’t like it they could always just leave,it wasn’t like she was agreeing to anything, it _was_ just a tour.

 

As the two went to stand from the table, readying themselves for this little trip, Mrs. Bennett never thought she would see her son look as heartbroken as he did by Mr. Macmillan’s next words, “The children will have to stay behind of course, wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

 

Glancing at her son’s crushed face; Mrs. Bennett supposed it was for the best.  If this place really was dangerous, she didn’t want her son anywhere near it, especially with his propensity for running off.  “Give me a minute to call the neighbors; Mrs. Thompson should be able to watch them.  How long do you think this’ll take?”

 

“Oh we can have you back in an hour, I’m sure of it,” Mr. Macmillan assured Mrs. Bennett, rising from the table himself.

 

As his mother went to make her call and get her jacket, Jamie looked imploringly at the man.  “Can’t I go, please?  I’ll be good I promise.  I won’t even touch _anything_.”

 

“I’m sorry my boy.  You’ll get to explore it all later.  We won’t be able to see everything anyway, but you’ll have seven years to do that.  Don’t worry, never before has a family denied their child attendance after seeing the castle.”  And with those words of comfort, Mr. Macmillan went to meet Mrs. Bennett, who was hanging up her phone.

 

“Mrs. Thompson will be over in a minute,” Mrs. Bennett informed her son, and then to Mr. Macmillan she teased, “So where is this school, anyway?  Do we not have to ride broomsticks to get there?”

 

“Not at all,” Mr. Macmillan said, presenting her with his right elbow.  “If you’ll just take my arm, we’ll be there in no time flat.”

 

Then, with a sceptical look, Mrs. Bennett took Mr. Macmillan’s arm, and in the next moment all worries Jamie had about his mother refusing to allow him to go to Hogwarts vanished with a loud pop, just as did his mother and the stranger.  Staring at the spot where his mother had just been, Jamie could hardly comprehend his luck.  He was a wizard.  He was a wizard and he was going to get to learn magic in a castle.  To think, he never believed that moving half way ‘round the world could ever be this cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you have it, Jamie is a wizard. Sorry if Ernie Macmillan has changed too much since the books, but I figure that between a war and all the things that go into cleaning up afterwards, the characters that don't get much screen time in the books would have changed a lot from what little we saw. Besides, all wizards are a little eccentric.
> 
> So the next chapter is either going to contain the trip to Diagon Alley or a check up of what Jack's been up to, but not both or it will never be finished.
> 
> Also remember to head on over to my tumblr (link on profile) to leave any suggestions or requests about what you want to see, especially for what will happen on the shopping trip and during the train ride. Feel free to stop by if you have any questions as well.
> 
> I have also written a fic called We Only Wanted to Protect which can be found on my profile, so if you want to read a depressing fic about a solider's life during the Golden Age go check it out.
> 
> And as always, I look forward to seeing any comments that you have about the story.


	3. TWO The Letter to Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie writes a letter and almost gets in a fight.

Jamie Bennett sat on the floor in the front room of his family’s new townhouse, furiously writing on a piece of computer paper, only pausing to stop when the clutter that littered the coffee table he was writing on threatened to obstruct what little space he had managed to clear for his task.  Signing the letter the way his mother had always told him to, Jamie set his pen down and slid over to the wall of boxes that still occupied half of the small sitting room.   Reaching into the open cardboard cube on the floor, he rummaged around through the office supplies packed inside and pulled out a regular white envelope.  He would have liked to have one of those cool thick parchment envelopes that the wizards used, and maybe some of that fancy green ink that shined in even the dimmest light, but he supposed he would have to wait until tomorrow to get any of those things.

 

It was still somewhat hard to believe.  That he was a _wizard._  That he would actually get to learn _magic_.  He’d never be able to do enough to properly thank his mom for allowing him to go to Hogwarts.

 

At first he hadn’t been sure _what_ she would say when she got back from her impromptu trip with Mr. Macmillan, she had looked pretty stunned.  But when the first thing out of her mouth after she got her wits back about her was “Alright fine, he can go”, he never thought he would be happier in his entire life.  Although he still couldn’t figure out how his garbled shouts of “Thank you, thank you, thank you” as he crushed his mother’s legs had managed to wake up Mrs. Thompson, who had been sleeping on the couch, when the loud “Pop!” of the adult’s reappearance hadn’t managed to stir her.

 

Returning to the table with his envelope, Jamie couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to tell this amazing news to more than his best friend Jack Frost (well, maybe except to brag to Pippa back in the States about how he was going to learn magic in a castle and she wasn’t, but she was at soccer camp and he would have to wait until the weekend for both of them to be free, and awake, for a phone call).  Being careful to write clearly and not smudge the ink, Jamie jotted down the address he knew by heart, the one Jack had told him would always get letters forwarded his way:

 

            _Nicolas St. North (aka Santa Claus)_

_forward Jack Frost_

_1 Reindeer Lane_

_North Pole_

 

Then for added measure he grabbed a red pen from the office supply box and wrote _URGENT_ in large letters across the top.  Not bothering with stamps or a return address (letters to Santa didn’t need those) Jamie shoved the now crumbled and slightly torn paper into the envelope and licked it shut as he ran out the front door; barely remembering to yell back at mother that he was going out to mail a letter, and only managing to hear a shout of “Be back soon, dinner’s almost done,” before the door slammed shut behind him.

 

Running down the front walk, and managing to jump over his sister’s abandoned tricycle just in time to avoid an unpleasant meeting with the sidewalk, Jamie sprinted to the mailbox at the end of the street.  After passing several houses, he came to a stop a few steps before yet another unfortunate collision, this time with cold metal, and shoved the letter into the open slot.  Stopping to catch his breath, he leaned against the rounded steel, excited to feel the magic whisk the post away to Yeti hands.

 

“Jamie, you know Christmas isn’t until December,” a singsong voice teased from the house across the corner.  “It’s only August and you’ve already sent Father Christmas five letters.  I don’t think the elves can make enough presents for you.”

 

Jamie looked up from the mailbox and across the street to a girl about a year younger than him, wearing a yellow sundress and licking at a half eaten Popsicle (or ice lolly as she called it) that was slowly dripping sticky red goo down her wrist.

 

“Oh... Hi Bernie,” Jamie warily greeted, “the letter’s not for North, it’s for Jack...  And I told you before; the elves don’t make the toys, the Yetis do.”

 

Bernadette Young, or Bernie as her mother liked to call her, gave Jamie a disbelieving look.  Her family had moved from Cardiff last year and she was the _only_ other kid on the _entire_ block who was anywhere _near_ Jamie’s age (other than Mrs. Thompson’s grandson, who only visited about once a month), and Jamie was _really_ starting to dislike her.  He had tried to be nice at first, he even went over to her house the week after they moved, but all she wanted to do was have tea parties with her dolls and try to put ribbons in his hair (he had managed to sneak out the back door when she left him alone to try and find her mother’s lipstick).  She never wanted to go to the park and look for trolls or hunt ghosts in the old cemetery over on Manor Road.  And worst of all, she didn’t believe in Jack Frost (she did still believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy though, so she couldn’t be _all_ bad).

 

“You come up with all sorts of _stories_ ,” Bernie rolled her eyes as she walked across the street.

 

“There not stories, they’re all _true_.” Jamie defended as the girl came closer, licking the juice off her hand.

 

“Right Jamie, Yetis make Santa’s toys and the Easter Bunny is Australian.”

 

“Well he _is_ ,” Jamie insisted, “ask Sophie, she knows him better than me.”  But Jamie knew that the older girl would get nothing out of the three year old, who, after Bernie had told her that Christmas was better than Easter, was beginning to like the obnoxious girl just about as much as him.

 

“Your sister’s weird.  Who looks for Easter Eggs in the middle of summer?” Bernie commented, finishing off her Popsicle and dropping the stick on the ground.

 

“She is NOT!” Jamie defended, starting to get angry as the rude girl insulted his little sister.

 

“Yes she is, and so are YOU.  You come up with all these stories that aren’t true and tell them to people like you actually saw them happen.  You’re a liar Jamie Bennett, a weird _liar_.”

 

If Bernie hadn’t chosen that moment to turn around and cross back over to her side of the street, Jamie wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from hitting her (and Jamie Bennett had never wanted to hurt anyone in his entire life, not even _Pitch_ ).

 

But even though she was now out of hitting range, Jamie was still mad.  “Well you’ll see!” he shouted at the girl’s receding back, “I’m going to a school to become a wizard and do magic and other super cool things, then I’ll show you.  You’ll see everything I said was true; Yetis and Fairies really do exist.  I’ll show you it’s all real!”

 

“Liar Jamie Bennett, you’re a liar,” Bernie called back from her house, sticking out her tongue at him before retreating inside, banging the door closed behind her.

 

Still upset, Jamie stomped back up the road to his house, jumped over his sister’s trike and huffed himself inside.  He was careful not to slam the wooden door as he entered the building, but couldn’t hide his irritation as he sagged down into his seat at the kitchen table, already set for dinner.

 

“What’s wrong?” his mother asked as she set the hot casserole down in front of him and discarded the well used pot holders.

 

“Bernie was being mean again,” Jamie grumbled, watching his mom spoon noodles onto his and his sister’s plates.  “She said that I was a liar... and she called Sophie weird!” he jerked up in his chair and pointed across the table at his little sister, fidgeting in her booster seat and bib.

 

“Bernie mean,” Sophie commented, frowning at the older girl’s name and vigorously waving her pink plastic fork in the air.

 

“Why would she say something like that?” Mrs. Bennett reached over to stop the little girl from swinging her utensils around the room and placed a small portion of steamed carrots on her sectioned plastic plate.

 

“She doesn’t believe me when I tell her that the Yetis make North’s toys” Jamie muttered as he used his fork to poke at the limp pasta and chunks of grey fish on his plate.

 

“Well most people do think the elves do that job,” his mom remarked with her usual reply to one of her son’s more common schoolyard arguments.

 

“But that doesn’t make it true,” Jamie sank back down in his seat, preparing for another lecture about his ‘overactive imagination’.  To her part, his mother had never actually told him that Santa Claus or the Sandman weren’t real, but he could tell by the look in her eyes whenever the subject was brought up that she had lost hope in them long ago.  She was an adult after all, and adults don’t get to believe in people like Jack Frost.

 

Jamie had been dreading growing up.  Ever since that time a few months ago, right before they moved, when Jack and Bunny had snuck him and his sister into North’s workshop and Aster had confided that everyone stops believing eventually, it had become Jamie’s biggest fear.  Sometimes he would even get nightmares about it, and no matter how many times his mother looked under his bed or how many blankets he hid under, they always found a way in.

 

But now that would all change.   Now he was a wizard, and wizards got to fight dragons and live with trolls and summon giant eagles and do all sorts of amazing things every day.  Surely anyone who could make a cup of tea appear out of thin air would to be able to keep believing, no matter how old they got.  For the first time since he left his friends back in Burgess, Jamie got to look forward to being around people who _knew_ that all his ‘stories’ where true, people who he could talk to about everything and, no matter what he said, he would never have to worry about them calling him crazy.

 

But just because there was an entire school full of people who would believe him, that didn’t mean his mom was one of them.

 

“Well when people grow up always hearing that something is a certain way, they generally don’t like being told they’re wrong.  But I suppose you’re right, just because we’re told something, doesn’t make it true,” his mother admitted as she stabbed at the noodles on her plate.  “Just because you grow up being told something isn’t possible, doesn’t mean it can’t be real.  I think we all learned that today.”

 

Jamie stared wide eyed at his mother as she gave him a hesitant smile (not one of those ‘that’s nice sweetie’ smiles that adults always seem to give children when they don’t believe what you say, but an actual ‘I’m sorry I didn’t trust you before’ smile that he never thought he would see on his mother’s face in a million years).  He could hardly believe what she had just said.  For the first time in almost a year she hadn’t cringed or looked concerned when he talked about the Guardians.  He could see in her eyes that she was actually starting to believe him, starting to trust that he wasn’t just making things up.

 

“Well anyway,” his mother continued, “after dinner, when you’re done with the dishes, I want you to brush your teeth and go straight to bed.  I know it’s early but Mr. Macmillan will be here at 8 o’clock tomorrow and I don’t want to keep Mrs. Thompson waiting, she was nice enough to offer to drive us all to the station.”

 

Jamie nodded his head and started eating his meal, not sure what to say.  His mother was starting to believe him and tomorrow he was going to get school supplies so he could learn magic, if an earlier bedtime was all he had to do in exchange he would gladly go to sleep at 7 o’clock for the rest of his life.  England was really proving to be the coolest place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't really what I had in mind for this chapter, but if I put in the Diagon Alley part in it would never have gotten done.
> 
> Also that update on Wednesdays thing is pretty much completely off, life kinda really threw it at me these last few weeks. I'll update when I can, but I've been having trouble getting motivated to write lately.
> 
> The good news is I have a better idea of where I'm going with this, but I'm still not sure on a lot of things. One important thing that needs to be decided is what house Jamie will be in, I'm sort of in between two houses right now, but I really want to hear what you guys have to say. I'll probably put a poll up over on my FanFiction profile, but feel free to message me too.
> 
> And if you have any other ideas for the story I would really like to hear those too, even if I don't use your ideas hearing them helps me think about what I'm going to include. Feel free to message me here or over on my tumblr, I really need someone to discuss things with to keep me writing.
> 
> Next time for sure will be Diagon Alley.


	4. THREE Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie goes to Diagon Alley. Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait for this chapter. I had to move and got a new job these past few moths so I've been busy. I'd like to thank DYquem over on FanFiction.net for your idea for Jamie's wand. I didn't end up going with your suggestion, but the idea helped me find a core I was happier with.
> 
> This chapter also isn't all of Diagon Alley. I still had about ten pages to edit after the point it ends here, but I came to a good stopping point so I thought I'd put what I had up and work on the second part later. You do still get a few fun scenes though.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jamie’s mother tightly squeezed his hand as yet another person tried to rush between them.  The street was swarming with people hurrying about, trying to reach their jobs minutes before the start of shift or running errands that had been put off one day too many.  It was slightly less packed, out here on the sidewalk, than it had been down in the depths of the subway.  But the crowd was still making it difficult for Jamie to get a good look at his surroundings, despite his every best attempt.

 

Jamie and Sophie had only been to downtown London once since their family moved to Britain, and they were both excited at the chance to see more of the city.  Jamie tried his hardest to glimpse the storefronts they hurried past and Sophie fidgeted every time one of the big red busses they had previously only seen on TV zoomed by.  But their mother was intent on making sure no one got lost, keeping a tight hold of Jamie’s hand and hugging Sophie close to her chest.

 

Another person bumped into Jamie, this time an old woman with a large bag of groceries, and for a moment the boy lost track of the wizard who was supposed to be leading them.  Jamie didn’t know much about London, but it didn’t really seem like the type of city where one could buy wizarding school supplies (when he had first read his letter, he imagined they would have to journey several days to some far off town deep in the heart of a dark forest just to have any chance of finding the items listed), and ever since they had emerged from the underground, the small group had only seen common businesses: a clothing store across the street from a theatre, a booth over on the next corner selling DVDs.  In general it all seemed very muggle, a word Jamie had learned from Mr. Macmillan when they boarded the subway and the man had complimented them on their ingenuity in designing non-magical transportation.

 

As the horde around Jamie shifted, he was briefly able to spot Mr. Macmillan’s, now maroon, rumpled old hat sticking out at an odd angle above the heads and faces of the crowd.  The wizard had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, much to the annoyance of passersby, and appeared to be staring at a post between two store front windows, waiting for the family to catch up.  Jamie and his mother walked over to the peculiar man, stopping to investigate what he was looking at so assuredly.

 

“Well here we are,” the wizard announced.

 

“What… the bookstore?” Mrs. Bennett asked, slightly confused at their apparent destination.  And the large shop would have been Jamie’s first guess as well, but the place didn’t really feel like somewhere one would find wizards hiding; especially with its full window display of the fantasy novel series that had inspired a particularly popular medieval television drama.  However, it did seem like a better option than the music store next door.

 

“No, not there.  I mean the Leaky Cauldron of course.”  Mr. Macmillan raised his arm to point at a lot between the bookstore and music shop that Jamie hadn’t seen at first.  The place the man was gesturing at looked to be some sort of grungy old pub that hadn’t been renovated since its establishment, several centuries ago.

 

_This_ was exactly the type of place Jamie expected to find wizards.  It was also exactly the type of place that Jamie’s mother would never allow him to enter.  But as Jamie glanced up at his mom, worried what she would have to say on the appearance of the tattered structure, he could tell she had yet to spot the tavern; her eyes still skimming over the structure, volleying between the book store and music shop on either side, never resting on what lay between.  And she wasn’t the only one who didn’t appear to be able to spot the pub either.  Others in the crowd were simply glancing over the shop as well, eyes never stopping on its tarnished exterior.

 

Jamie pulled on his mother’s hand to get her attention.

 

“Don’t you see it mom?”  He pointed at the pub the same way Mr. Macmillan had, but his mother remained confused.  “It’s the old building, just there,” Jamie willed his mom to see.

 

Now even Sophie had joined in reaching towards the building, trying to compel their mother to realise what lay right before her.

 

For a few moments Mrs. Bennett face remained blank, then her eyes widened in alarm as they finally focused on the tavern’s battered entrance, her head jerking back and her mouth falling open in shock at the building’s sudden presence.

 

“Let’s head inside shall we,” Mr. Macmillan said from where he stood off to the side, watching the small family with a hint of mischief in his eyes.  Swiftly the wizard began walking towards the Leaky Cauldron’s wooden entryway and Jamie quickly followed, pulling his mother along behind him.

 

 

 

The inside of the tavern looked like it had fallen right out of one of the many fantasy books Jamie loved to read.  In the dining area a bizarre assortment of rugged wooden tables and chairs were haphazardly thrown about in no particular order, and over on the daub covered walls paintings of every shape and size were hung (yet none seemed to contain portraits of the people named beneath their frames, only images of empty rooms and distant scenery).  Dangling from the ceiling, a chandelier suspended actual candles high above their heads, the small flames adding an abnormal amount of light to the dim space, and over on the far wall a green flame cheerfully blazed in a fireplace hearth.

 

This was _exactly_ what Jamie had been expecting.

 

Following Mr. Macmillan across the room, Jamie dragged his stunned mother between jumbled tables and past the extraordinary people sitting at them.  The individuals inside the tavern were clothed in all assortments of appearance and dress.  Some looked like they could have just walked in off the street, while others were more likely to have dropped out of a painting from the 19th century.  In the corner, Jamie could see a group of three short men wearing bowler hats talking in a low tone.  Periodically the chubbiest little man, the one wearing a maniacal, would look about the room in quick glances, glaring at anyone seated more than a few tables away.  Over at the bar a slim woman dressed in a frilly yellow gown was pouring the vivid pink contents of a large winding bottle into a tea cup, decorated with what appeared to be cauldrons hopping about on small hairy feet.

 

Jamie could tell his mother was getting nervous about this place (and he probably would be too if this wasn’t just all so cool), but he was thankful that she was still allowing Mr. Macmillan to guide them to wherever they were going.

 

At the back of the pub the wizard stopped to greet the bartender, a blond haired woman wiping down the counter, by reaching out to grab one of her hands and raising it to his lips.

 

“Hello, Hannah.  How’s the inn business treating you?” Mr. Macmillan remarked.

 

“Now Ernie, you know I’m married,” Hannah reprimanded, drawing her hand back from his grasp and returning to her task of cleaning the wooden surface.

 

“And how _is_ Neville?” Mr. Macmillan asked, still smiling at the woman’s scolding frown.

 

“Busy as usual,” she huffed.  “He’s already off to Hogwarts, says he has to get the new crop of mandrake roots ready for the second years.  I swear he would turn the entire Cauldron into a greenhouse if I let him.  But he’s happier now, since he quit the Aurors—which is good, but anyhow...  Who do you have with you today?”

 

“Ah yes.  This is Jamie Bennett, he’s a muggle-born who will be starting at Hogwarts in September.  Jamie this is Hannah Longbottom, her husband Neville teaches Herbology, one of the classes you’ll be taking once you start school.”

 

Mrs. Longbottom leaned over the counter and reached out her hand to Jamie, but the boy didn’t know how he was supposed to respond.  Did he kiss the hand, like Mr. Macmillan had, or simply shake it like his mother had told him to do whenever meeting a grownup for the first time?   Nervous, he slowly raised his hand to grasp the woman’s, but his worries were quickly relieved as the witch gave his hand three firm shakes before shortly letting go.

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jamie said.

 

“Oh, you’re American,” Mrs. Longbottom exclaimed, recognizing Jamie’s accent.  “We don’t get many Americans at Hogwarts.”

 

“Oh, well, we just moved here,” Jamie offered.

 

“That’s just grand,” the woman said.  “Off to buy your supplies then I suppose.  I won’t keep you waiting, I’m sure you’re excited to see what we’ve got in store,” she smiled down at the boy.

 

“Yes, let’s move along.  Lots to see, lots to do.  This way to Diagon Alley,” Mr. Macmillan said, walking over to a door at the back of the shop

 

“So we won’t be buying rat spleens and fish eyes at a pub then?” Jamie’s mother quipped, finally having recovered from her shock. 

 

“No ma’am,” Mr. Macmillan chuckled at Mrs. Bennett’s jibe.  “The Cauldron’s just a front, the real shops are in the back...  And besides, Jamie will be needing _bat_ spleens, not _rat_.”  At that Mr. Macmillan opened the small door and stepped out through the portal, calling a brief farewell to the shop keep as they left.

 

The area they walked out into was a small bricked in patio with a few rusty garbage cans tucked away in the corner.  Again, it was all relatively normal; no store fronts or vendors in sight.

 

Jamie could sense his mother was getting uneasy again, and when Mr. Macmillan pulled out his wand, she gripped tightly at her son’s shoulder.  But when the wizard simply stepped over to the wall at the back of the lot and started pressing the tip of his long stick to a series of bricks, Mrs. Bennett was able to relax once more, releasing the death grip she held on her son.  It didn’t appear that any of the woman’s fears of having moved half way across the world just to be murdered in some back alley would be coming true today.

 

When he finished his spell, Mr. Macmillan stepped back from the small wall and, to the family’s surprise, part of the brick structure had vanished behind him.  Now there stood an archway leading to the most amazing street any of them had ever seen.

 

Just like the sidewalk in front of the Leaky Cauldron, this lane was crowded with people.  But unlike the masses that packed that major metropolitan avenue, these individuals where dressed in whimsical robes and oddly shaped hats.  The street was entirely different as well.  There was no room for cars to pass on the cobblestone path, and the store fronts lining the alley all appeared to be built around the same time as the pub guarding their access.

 

As they proceeded down the lane, the family passed a wide assortment of shops and booths, each more fantastic than the last.  On their right, a store that had an assortment of scaly three-clawed feet hanging to dry in the window was advertising a sale on Horklump Juice (Now Half Off).  Across the street another shop almost went unseen behind the numerous stacks of metal pots lining the building’s front and pouring out into the street.  Further down, a store surrounded by children around Jamie’s age, had a broomstick on display in its window.  But not for sweeping, as Mr. Macmillan explained, the brooms sold at this shop where for exclusively for riding through the air.  Unfortunately, First Years aren’t allowed broomsticks at Hogwarts.

 

But the store that really caught Jamie’s attention was Eeylops Owl Emporium, a dark building decorated with hanging cages housing every type of owl imaginable.

 

“Mom, look. They have owls for sale,” Jamie excitedly pulled his mother over to inspect one of the dangling coops.  “I’m allowed to take an owl to school, my letter says so.  Can I get one?  Please!”

 

Ever since they moved to London, Jamie had been begging his mother for a new pet.   Abby, Jamie’s pet greyhound and best friend next to Jack Frost, hadn’t been able to come with them on their long plane ride over the Pacific Ocean, and Jamie had been missing his loyal companion ever since.  But he was at least able to take comfort in knowing that she was being well taken care of (Cupcake had promised to give Monty a good punch if Abby was ever unhappy when the blonde boy had agreed to take the dog in).

 

“I don’t know Jamie,” his mother replied.  “We can’t really afford a pet right now, we still need to buy all of your school supplies…  Besides, I don’t think they accept pounds here.” Mrs. Bennett was examining the cage of a large brown owl, or more specifically the sign tied to the bars that read _Tawny Owl - 10 Galleons_.

 

“Birdy,” Sophie commented to the large feathered creature staring at her with its big round eyes.  The little girl wiggled in her mother’s hold, trying to reach out to pet the animals’ soft head.

 

“No need to worry,” Mr. Macmillan said reassuringly to Mrs. Bennett.  “You can easily exchange your muggle money at our first stop, the only bank in the entire wizarding world… Gringotts.”

 

Near the end of the street, right before the alley split off in two directions, was one of the biggest buildings Jamie had ever seen.  Not only did it stand out from the surrounding shops by sheer size alone, but the marble exterior, as white as a snow day, was a sharp contrast to the aged wood and glass fronts they had seen up till now.  As they entered through the bronze double doors it was hard to believe that this was a bank and not some sort of palace.

 

After passing through a second set of doors, this time silver with a warning riddle engraved on their fronts, the group emerged in the midst a long hall and Jamie was again amazed.  But this time his shock did not come from the marble floors and walls, or even the impossibly long counter stretching far out of sight.  This time his astonishment was for the tellers sitting on tall stools behind the endless counter, tallying up large gold coins in ledgers and weighing out small jewels on brass scales.

 

Each teller was a short man with a large bulbous nose on his wrinkled face and a pair of long pointed ears sticking out the sides of his domed head.  They all had lanky fingers, slanted eyes, and looked thoroughly inhuman.

 

“Goblins,” Mr. Macmillan commented at Jamie’s bewildered face.  “They run Gringotts, founded it in fact.  Quite a clever lot, excellent with money and great smiths as well... though not the most pleasant bunch.”

 

The small group walked up to one of the vacant booths and Mr. Macmillan informed the bald little man that they required an exchange of muggle money for wizarding coin.

 

“You see,” Mr. MacMillan explained to Jamie as his mother apprehensively handed over the bills she had withdrawn from an ATM earlier that day, “wizards use coins for money instead of those colourful pieces of paper muggles like so much.  The large gold ones are called Galleons.  Now a Galleon is worth 17 Sickles—Sickles are the sliver ones—and a Sickle is worth 29 Knuts, the small copper pieces.  These coins are accepted anywhere in the wizarding world, so after we exchange your money here, we’ll have no problem buying everything you need for your classes.”

 

It was all a little much for Jamie to take in, having to learn a new type of currency, again, in addition to all the other fantastical things he was seeing for the first time that day.  But it did sound easier than going from Dollars to Pounds, especially with a Goblin to do the conversions.  What Jamie was really worried about though, was if they would have enough money to buy everything he needed.  His mother hadn’t told him they couldn’t afford a pet earlier just because she didn’t want to buy him an owl.  Jamie knew moving to London had cost a lot of money, and his mother had been struggling to ensure they had enough to get by on these past few months.

 

Jamie’s regret about asking for the bird must have shown on his face. When his mother looked over at him from the counter, where she was trying to keep Sophie from grabbing at the Goblin’s feather pen, she gave him a reassuring smile.

 

“Don’t worry, Jamie.  I’ll just have to pick up a few more shifts at the hospital.”  She reached over to ruffle the boy’s hair before smoothing it back down again.  “Everything will be fine.”

 

Jamie smiled back up at his mom, not wanting to worry her more, but as the goblin handed his mother a little leather pouch containing the small assortment of silver and gold coins that amounted to the rest of their savings, a feeling of shame settled in the pit of his stomach.

 

 

Back out on the street, as they followed Mr. Macmillan down the alleyway, Jamie held tight to the golden coin his mother had pressed into his hand when they exited the bank.  He was still excited about all of the extraordinary things going on around him, but his mood had been sobered by the reminder that every purchase would require money.

 

Lost in his guilt, Jamie almost didn’t notice when Mr. Macmillan came to a stop in front of the oldest looking building on the street.  Over the top of large plate windows, displaying a lone wand on a faded purple cushion, carefully painted words read _Ollivanders: Maker of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._

 

Jamie immediately brightened back up at the promise the store held.

 

As they entered the establishment, the ting-a-ling of a bell could faintly be heard ringing at the back of the shop.  Inside, Mrs. Bennett sat down on the only available chair in the small waiting area, balancing Sophie on her lap, and Mr. Macmillan leaned against the only sliver of available wall space, examining a small selection of the many slender boxes lining the narrow room.  Jamie was left to stand alone before the dusty counter at the front of the shop, nervous in the silence that penetrated the air.  In a way, this dilapidated old store felt a lot like North’s workshop... if you removed the Yetis, elves, toys and all the other things that made it noisy and exciting.  Still, there remained a distinct force saturating the space, one Jamie was only able to place amongst the bright colours and noisy workers of the Russian’s assembly lines.

 

After a short wait, a man with moonlight eyes emerged from behind the shelves of slim boxes.

 

“Hello,” the man curtly greeted.  “Here for your wand are you?”

 

Jamie nodded in response, not wanting to break whatever spell silence had cast over the space.

 

“Well then, raise your wand arm,” Gideon Ollivander commanded, pulling a tape measure out from the pocket of his vest.

 

Jamie wasn’t sure what the old wizard meant by wand arm, but not wanting to look the fool in front of the man who would be assisting him in such an important decision, Jamie quickly raised his right hand out in front of him.  As soon as his arm was in the air, the tape measure shot from Mr. Ollivander’s grasp and began measuring the young boy’s body: shoulder to wrist, hip to floor, chin to big toe.  All of Jamie was evaluated, even the circumference of his head, the lengths of his index fingers, and the distance between his ears.

 

As Jamie’s personal space was invaded, the haunted instrument’s owner moved to examine his wares at the side of the shop, muttering to himself as he picked through stacks of boxes.  While the man searched, his tool enthusiastically continued its work, not stopping until a command from the old wizard caused the device to fly back to its pocket in his vest, abandoning its attempt to determine the length of Jamie’s nose.

 

With the instrument safely tucked away, Mr. Ollivander deposited a selection of narrow boxes on the counter, disrupting a layer of dust, and presented Jamie with the first wand.

 

“Dragon heartstring and Cedar, twelve inches,” the old man commented as he thrust said wand into Jamie’s grasp.  But no sooner was the polished wooden rod in the boy’s hand than it was snatched back out and nestled in its box again.

 

Immediately the stick was replaced, another sculpted baton pressed into Jamie’s grip, this one ten and a half inches of maple and unicorn hair, yet the grooved shaft lasted no longer than its predecessor.  And the patterned continued, through elm and phoenix feather, beech wood and dragon heartstring, acacia and unicorn hair.  On they went, until, for a moment, Jamie thought they may have finally found one the wandsmith was happy with, he _had_ been allowed to hold the ten and three fourths inch rod of poplar and dragon heartstring for almost a minute, but it too was soon rejected.  The stack of discarded boxes on the counter became dangerously tall as more and more options were eliminated.

 

Throughout this process, Mr. Ollivander had yet to speak a word other than to mutter the construction of the carved sticks being considered then abandoned.  Even now he remained silent as he stood motionless at the centre of shop, staring fixedly at his currently difficult customer.   The boy in question fidgeted apprehensively under the intense scrutiny of the wizard’s gaze, doubts of his magical abilities circling his mind.  What would happen if they decided he wasn’t actually a wizard after all?  Would they tell him to go home and pretend this had never happened?  Would he be expected to return to a life of math classes and arguments with Bernie on the existence of the Sandman?

 

If Jamie wasn’t allowed to learn magic he didn’t know how he would ever be able to move on with his life.

 

Before soul crushing dread could cause tears to burst forth from the young boy’s eyes, Mr. Ollivander suddenly moved decisively across the room to the faded purple cushion at the front of the store.  Carefully lifting the rod off the silk pillow, the old man presented Jamie with a simply crafted wand of grainy wood.

 

Instinctively Jamie reached out to take the stick, and the moment his palm met smooth wood a warmth instantly settled at the base of his spine, quickly spreading throughout his body.  Simultaneously the light in the dim shop shifted, brightening as it filled with a steady stream of sunbeams and moonlight pouring from the tip of the wand.  Shocked by the sudden life emanating from the inert object, Jamie looked to Mr. Ollivander for an explanation, only to find him a similar state of surprise.

 

“Hum,” Mr. Ollivander made a contemplating noise as the room returned to its previous level of illumination, if not perhaps a bit brighter.  “I never thought I’d see the day.  It was just a chance really—an experiment.  I never expected...”  Straightening up Mr. Ollivander looked down at Jamie.

 

“About a month before my father retired, leaving me in charge of this shop, an old wizard came in asking for assistance in repairing several antiques that had been recently damaged.  I thought he was mad when he requested they be restored to working order, that he intended to use the ancient weapons.  But my father being the great wandmaker he was returned those crystal blades to pristine condition, better than when they were first crafted if you ask me.

 

“When the wizard returned to collect his relics, in his payment he included a pure white feather, a thank you to my father for his exquisite work I suppose.  Now, traditionally, Ollivanders only use unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, and phoenix feather for the core of our wands, they’re the best conduits you see; but my father claimed the feather was calling to him in his sleep, insisting it be made into a wand.  That one day someone would need its magic.  So, for the last few months of his life, my father worked tirelessly to shape that feather into something that could be used as a wand—took him three months just to decide on eleven and three quarter inch oak.  I tried to convince him to rest, that the healers were concerned about stress on his heart... but he insisted he finish it himself.  I guess it was what kept him going though, only managed to hold on for another day after its completion.”

 

Jamie stared at the slender piece of wood in his hand, uneasy at the wizard’s story, yet curious as to what could compel someone to put so much effort into something that he now knew was meant for him.

 

“I see my father was right, that wand did need to be made.”  Mr. Ollivander’s grey moon-eyes bore into Jamie.  “He put his dying days into that stick boy, you’d better take good care of it.”

 

Jamie nodded his head in response, not able to conceive of how he would ever let such an important part of himself become damaged.

 

As his mother paid Mr. Ollivander, Jamie stood in the middle of the shop, staring at his new wand, trying to unlock the secret of what lay at its core.  Fixated on the unremarkably powerful object, he didn’t notice when his mom finished her transaction and came over to pick Sophie up from where she was attempting to get a better look at what held her brother’s attention so acutely.  It wasn’t until Mr. Macmillan called for him from the door that he even realised they were ready to depart.

 

Before following the adults back out onto the street, Jamie searched the room for Mr. Ollivander, wanting to show his gratitude to the old man for allowing him to take his father’s final masterpiece.  But the shop was already vacant, as empty and quiet as when they first entered.  No trace remained of the old wizard who had helped him search through so many boxes (the wands on the counter already inconspicuously replaced, not even leaving an impression in the dust covering the surface).   It was hard to tell that anyone had even been in the store this past week, let alone a few moments ago.

 

Glancing once more across the shop, Jamie sent a silent farewell to the wandmaker and turned to join his family outside the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone freaks out, that was not Garrick Ollivander, the person who helped Harry find his wand, that was Gideon Ollivander, Garrick's son. I needed a new owner of Ollivander's because Garrick was getting old and it was about time he passed on the shop to his son. That also means that the wand Jamie has was the last wand Garrick made before he died.
> 
> Because this story is taking place fifteen years after the books end, a lot of the characters from the books are going to have moved on from their previous positions and will need replacing. Not all of the characters have been replaced though, so you can still hold on hope that your favorites will appear at some point.
> 
>  
> 
> I'd like to sent all my thanks to Lynse over on Fanfiction.net for all the assistance with story development and for asking questions that force me to consider things I forgot. Without your help I wouldn't have any idea where this story is going.
> 
> That being said, it may be a while until the next Chapter comes out. I'm still busy with work and I really want to outline the entire first year before I get into writing any more chapters. But, after I get the outline planed I should be posting quicker.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, who can guess what's at the core of Jamie's wand? And who was the strange man that gave it Garrick in the first place? Send me a message here or over on tumblr (updates about story progress can be found on my tumblr).
> 
> As always, I love hearing from people so feel free to send me any suggestions or ideas you have.
> 
> Next time we'll see what Jamie thinks about the rest of Diagon Alley, namely Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a teaser than an actual prologue, but oh well. The rest of the chapters will be far longer (the next one’s already reaching 10 pages).
> 
> With all of the ROTG/HP crossovers that I’ve been seeing everywhere on the internet for the past few months I couldn’t understand why someone hadn’t sent little Jamie off to Hogwarts yet. Then I did the logistics and now I completely understand. But nevertheless, here I go, starting us on a brand new journey.
> 
> But on that note, I can’t do this alone. I have the basic time frame down and some vague ideas of what I want to happen, but no real antagonists or true story plot. So, if there was ever something you wanted to see Jamie do, if only he had magic, or just a general understanding of what’s considered cannon after Harry’s 7th year, head on over to my tumblr (link found in profile) and let me know.
> 
> Oh, I should also mention that this will be taking place in the year 2013, a year after the events in ROTG, and (according to The Harry Potter Lexicon) a whole 15 years after the Dark Lord’s defeat. I should also say that this fic, for the most part, will not feature Harry Potter or any of the Golden Trio, family, or associates. If you want to see who will have roles in this story, I’ll be posting a Master Characters List and other timeline information on my tumblr, probably sometime later tonight. So head on over!
> 
> Also support will keep me writing, so any compliments are welcome. :) ~CC


End file.
